Ravishing Regencies- The Complete Series

by Emily Murdoch

  She kissed him hungrily then, and Alexander felt the swelling of his heart matched by the swelling of his member as it felt the warmth of her skin against his own, the tremble of her body, the scratch of her nipple across his chest.

  He laid her down on the bed and pushing aside her legs to reveal that secret place, plunged himself into her and watched the shock and jolt of surprise mingled with pleasure wash across her face.

  “Take me,” she whispered, and Alexander needed no further encouragement. He leaned over her, thrusting slowly at first, one hand holding him steady and the other playing with the skin around her hip, that sensitive spot behind her ear, and marvelling in the way that her body responded so perfectly to every movement.

  It was all that he could do to keep himself steady, slowly building the rhythm, slowly drawing out every drop of delight that he could from her body. And then his questing fingers found a spot just above where he had entered her, and Teresa cried out his name as he kneaded it faster, faster than the movement of his hips though it was strenuous work not to just release himself into her as she climaxed and tightened around him.

  “My word, you are good at that,” she whispered lazily, eyelids fluttering. “Are you sure that no one ever taught you that?”

  Alexander laughed, and brought the silky wet fingers to her breast, and she arched once again as he twisted her nipple slowly with the wetness. “No, but I am sure there is a great deal that you could teach me.”

  Teresa was not given a chance to respond: he could no longer hold out for his own pleasure, and resting on his upper arms as he placed his hands on her breasts, he slowly released his control, allowing himself to thrust faster and faster, deeper and deeper into her. As his fingers clenched around her breasts, her own fingers clutched at his back, scratching at him as her second climax shot through her and he blew into her, pouring the desire and love that had been building into her warm and shuddering depths.

  They breathed deeply and shakily, and Alexander caught her eye with a smile.

  “If you say that you could do that every day,” she warned, “I shall scream.”

  Alexander dipped his head down, and kissed that soft skin below her ear as she shivered. “Promise?”

  9

  “You have to promise,” Teresa said seriously, staring at her companion. “You have to promise that you will not leave me.”

  She hoped to stare him into seriousness, but she did not seem to be able to manage it.

  Alexander laughed. “Teresa, I am not going to abandon you with a lion, come now! It is hardly a promise that needs to be made, you will be absolutely fine.”

  But Teresa glared at him. They were standing in the huge hallway of Loxwich Park, the Caershire family seat, and it had been overwhelming the day before, when Teresa had arrived. Now, knowing the guest that was expected at any moment, it was terrifying.

  Teresa smoothed her fingers over her light green gown. It was her best, even after its dip in the Thames, and despite Alexander’s offer to purchase a new one, she knew that this was the perfect dress in which to meet her.

  If she ever turned up, of course.

  “Mother is always late,” Alexander said calmly, as though he could read her mind. “You cannot make an entrance if you are always on time, when people expect you.”

  Teresa raised an eyebrow, and then resumed her pacing.

  “Alexander, I have been thinking – thinking about my sister.”

  He nodded. “I thought that you would be. ‘Tis only natural, the day before your wedding, to consider your family. They will be arriving soon, do not fret.”

  Teresa bit her lip. “That is the thing. I do not – I cannot see how they will be. Father is so unwell, Helena may not wish to move him. She will not be able to, they have not the funds to move him in a comfortable manner.”

  Alexander shrugged. “Then we will send a carriage. It will not take long to reach them, and they will be here before the morning is out.”

  She stared at him. Was she ever to truly become accustomed to this much wealth? When there was a problem, it could always be fixed by throwing money, or servants, or influence at it. Nothing was too difficult for the house of Caershire.

  “And then,” she said delicately, aware of just how large her request was. “After the wedding, could Helena and my father . . . well, perhaps stay somewhere here? There must be an old cottage somewhere with no one living in it, and it could do with a little upkeep. It would give my sister the freedom not to work, you see, and – ”

  “Teresa,” Alexander said seriously, staring at her with a slow smile. “Do you really think that I would allow your sister to consider working herself?”

  The nerves of meeting his mother were intermingled with fretting over her sister, a long-formed habit, and she stared at him uncomprehending. “You would not?”

  Alexander shook his head. “My love, they are my family now, my own flesh and blood. Helena will never need to work in her life, if she does not choose to. Your sister and father will want for nothing.”

  Teresa resumed her pacing. “You do not know my sister like I do. Helena is proud, she may not want to accept our help.”

  She could not see him from where she paced, head down, but she heard his voice and it softened her heart and slowed its frantic pace.

  “Whatever we can do for them, we will always do. They are family.”

  Teresa smiled to herself. It was almost difficult for her to comprehend; just four weeks ago she did not know Alexander from Adam, and now here she was, about to be married the very next day. An unconscious smile rose, unbidden, across her face.

  And then their nightly lovemaking would be acceptable. Not that it had stopped them losing themselves to passion and pleasure almost every day either.

  Her eyes flickered over to Alexander, who was lounging sedately in a chair. His strong jaw and dark olive complexion seemed perfectly suited here, the seat of all the Dukes of Caershire before him. She could see him in every oil painting in every room: his eye there, the turn of his nose there, the way that he held himself in that grand portrait over the dining table.

  Teresa shivered. Here were generations of Caershires, all making respectable marriages, all with ladies of good family and fortune: and here was she. Teresa Metcalfe, fisherman’s daughter.

  “Are you quite sure,” she began.

  “Yes,” interrupted Alexander with a smile.

  Teresa scowled at him. “You do not even know what I am going to ask.”

  But she could barely hold the scowl for more than a few seconds, as his smile melted her heart. Honestly, would she ever be able to resist that look?

  “You are worried,” said Alexander quietly, rising from his seat and walking over to her, “that you do not have the – goodness, I suppose, the ‘breeding’, for want of a better word – to be here. And you would be right.”

  Teresa’s scowl returned. “Right?”

  Alexander wrapped his arms around her, and he grinned, twisting up Teresa’s insides until she could barely look at him without wanting to kiss him.

  “You are better than all of them,” he whispered. “All they had was breeding; nothing more. You have determination, and drive, and desire. You will do whatever it takes to protect your family, and now you will do whatever it takes to protect this family. I would say that is an asset worth having.”

  She could not help but soften. “But are you sure?”

  He smiled, and shook his head. Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “Do you think that I would have done what I did to you last night if I was not sure?”

  A flutter of memory whispered through Teresa’s mind, and she shivered in joyful remembrance – and hopeful anticipation.

  “I hope that we will do it again tonight,” she whispered, and brought her hands around his neck, leaning up for a kiss.

  Their lips were but inches away when the front door slammed open.

  “Ah,” said a haughty voice. “I see that you are practising for to
morrow night.”

  Teresa flung herself away from Alexander, heat rising in her face, to stare at the newly arrived voice.

  It belonged to a woman, but like no woman who she had ever met. She was tall, taller than most men, with her hair piled up by jewelled pins and a cascading pearl string glistened down to her waist. Her eyes were sharp, like a hawk’s, and she had affixed them on her son.

  “Ah, so this is the way that you address your mother now?” She raised an eyebrow as she stopped before them as they snapped apart. “In complete silence and awe? Well, I must say that I approve. It is nice to feel the power of one’s entrance into a room.”

  Teresa’s heart was beating fast, and her mouth was dry. This woman – nay, matriarch – was surely a power to be reckoned with. What would she say if she knew about her past? Would she stop the wedding? Would she prevent her from seeing Alexander ever again?

  But one glance at him calmed her fears, and slowed her heart. He was smiling.

  “Good morning, Mother,” he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek and taking her hand. “And you know quite well how marvellous it is to see you, so do not pretend that you cannot see the joy in my face.”

  The Dowager Duchess of Caershire stared at him for a moment, and sniffed. “Well, I cannot say that I do, but if you insist that it is there then who am I to contradict you?”

  Alexander laughed, and his other hand found Teresa’s. “My love, may I introduce Arabella Stewart, the Dowager Duchess of Caershire. Mother, I would like to introduce to you my bride, and the next Duchess of Caershire. Miss Teresa Metcalfe.”

  Her heart pounding once more, and her hand feeling uncomfortable sweaty with anxiety, Teresa dropped into the deepest curtsey she could muster without tipping over.

  The older woman’s eyes did not leave her for a second, and Teresa raised hers only to be met with a stern gaze.

  “Hmmm.”

  Teresa found that she was holding her breath, and not even a squeeze of her hand from Alexander was enough to calm her. This was it, then: this was the moment that her fate was decided. For what sort of man would go against his mother’s wishes? If Arabella, Dowager Duchess of Caershire, took a disliking to her future daughter-in-law, well – she would simply cease to become her future daughter-in-law.

  “Good morrow, Miss Metcalfe,” the Dowager Duchess said sternly.

  Teresa found her voice, but it was a struggle. “Good – good morrow, my lady.”

  A stern eyebrow was raised. “Is it? Is it indeed?”

  She flushed. She should have known that it was all too good to be true: meeting Alexander, being saved by him and falling in love with him. There was, of course, going to be something that stood in their way.

  And she could think of nothing more substantial to stand in their way than a fearsome mother-in-law. Alexander dropped her hand and took a slight step back – the coward, she could not help but think.

  “So. This is the young lady who threw herself into your path, and claimed you.” The Dowager Duchess sniffed. “How . . . interesting.”

  Her unyielding gaze swept up and down Teresa, and she felt her flush deepening. Really, it was too much to bear. To think that she was going to lose Alexander in the next five minutes, and she was just standing here, letting it happen!

  “‘Tis indeed an interesting story,” Teresa found herself saying, as she tried not to notice her fiancé’s broad grin just beyond her future mother-in-law. “I would love to tell it to you, sometime.”

  “I have already heard it,” snapped the Dowager Duchess. “And I must say, I did not think that it would be my son, of all the noblemen of England, who would end up being seduced by a harlot.”

  The word stung in the air, and Teresa glanced desperately at Alexander, who shook his head slightly to indicate his non-involvement. There was bile growing in her throat and she felt like she was going to be sick.

  This was how it ended, then. She had taken on the job to protect her family, and now she would be returning to them, carried by a different kind of disgrace.

  And then, a sort of madness overcame her.

  “Yes,” she said firmly, looking the Dowager Duchess Arabella straight in the eye. “Seduced by a harlot is quite correct, my lady. But then as I was soundly seduced in my turn, I think really that the label ‘harlot’ could be ascribed to both of us.”

  With that, she took a step to the side, and grasped Alexander’s hand once more.

  She did not know where she found the strength to stare at the woman who would have been her mother-in-law, but she managed it. The steely gaze that was levelled back at her almost made her want to sit down, it was so strong.

  But she held it. She was not going to be forced away from the man she loved by a pair of disapproving eyes.

  And then those eyes creased. The Dowager Duchess of Caershire was smiling.

  “By God, I like you,” she said heartily, a smile broadening across her cheeks as she nodded decidedly. “My dear, almost every well born lady in this country is essentially a courtesan, flaunting her wares – or as much of them as she dares – in the hope of securing a little fortune. You were honest, and I like you for it. Alexander, my boy, why is the wedding taking place tomorrow afternoon? You know that I prefer a morning wedding.”

  The conversation moved between them, and Teresa stood very still, almost as if the slightest movement could break the spell, and remind the Dowager Duchess Arabella that she had just accepted a courtesan as her daughter-in-law.

  “It is high time this family got a little fresh blood,” she was saying as she looked approvingly at Teresa. “This woman is perfect. She is beautiful, evidently smart if she was able to bag you in the hunt – ”

  “She cannot swim, though,” interrupted Alexander with a grin on his face as he glanced at Teresa.

  The Dowager Duchess Arabella threw her hand in the air nonchalantly, as though there would be servants who could do the swimming for the future Duchess of Caershire. “That is of no matter. Miss Metcalfe, would you do me the honour of taking tea with me this afternoon? The Green Room would be best, Alexander, you know that the afternoon sun is just splendid from that side of the house.”

  As she spoke that last sentence, the Dowager Duchess of Caershire strode away towards a large door. It opened to admit her, and she walked through as they caught a glance of the previously concealed footman who opened it quietly.

  Teresa found her breath slowly escaping from her lungs, and tension that she had not realised was building up in her neck was loosened as her shoulders slumped.

  “What a woman!”

  Alexander laughed. “Well, I suppose so. I grew up with her as the epitome of womanhood, so it is not really any surprise to me.”

  Teresa’s eyebrows raised as she looked at the man she loved. “No wonder you did not find my strength of character intimidating – your mother is made of iron!”

  “Steel, I think you will find,” came a satisfied voice from a corridor as the Dowager Duchess of Caershire disappeared into the depths of Loxwich.

  Teresa clapped a hand to her mouth, and flushed. “Is she gone now?” She whispered.

  Alexander could barely answer, he was laughing so much. Throwing himself onto a chair in the hallway, he chuckled, “I certainly think you have made your mark, Teresa – and fear not, it is a good one. I think she may end up preferring you over her own son.”

  She could not help but grin. “Well, that would be a true honour indeed.”

  He opened his arms, and Teresa folded herself into them, sitting in his lap and feeling the warmth and security of his arms around her. Could there be any greater joy than this?

  A twinge at her heartstrings told her that there was. There was just one thing missing.

  “Alexander,” she whispered.

  “Teresa.”

  He was nuzzling her neck through her long blonde hair, and she squirmed with the intimacy of it.

  “I love you.” It felt glorious to say, like a secret that no one else
knew – though society had been informed of their impending nuptials a week ago, and the scandal and gossip that it had created had overwhelmed the wagging tongues of London, and Bath, and Edinburgh, and even Brighton.

  “And I love you.” His arms had, if possible, tightened around her even more. “I certainly ran into a stroke of luck when I heard you in the Thames. To think what would have happened if I had not jumped in and rescued you!”

  Teresa shivered. She still had nightmares about that dunk into the icy cold waters. “I would have drowned.”

  “And I would not have been drenched,” Alexander smiled, and brought his face to hers so that their noses touched. “And this drenched Duke came home with a greater prize than he could ever have imagined: a water nymph.”

  Teresa laughed, and squirmed happily in his arms. “And what exactly do you intend to do with this nymph?”

  His lips touched hers, and she welcomed his kiss: rich and slow, with his devotion poured out onto her willing flesh.

  “I am going to marry her,” Alexander whispered, and Teresa could not help but stare, smiling, deep into his eyes. “And I am going to devote my life to making her happy: every minute of every hour of every day.”

  Teresa’s whole body was tingling with anticipation for this next stage of her life to start. “You know, our bedchamber is but two minutes away. Let’s start now.”

  Wondering what happened to Teresa’s sister, Helena? Discover her Ravishing Regencies story in Shipwrecked with a Suitor – read on for the first chapter… or click here to read the full story now!

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  To Tom and Lily. Some of our dearest friends.

  And of course, Joshua.